Stacey Bates was a secretary with a secret. The secret involved
her desk which was originally placed next to a window on the
sixteenth floor of the Brooks Building. One day, she had it
moved to the other side of the room. She told her co-workers
that she did this because the view made her dizzy. But that
wasn't the reason. She preferred her desk there because all she
had to do was lean over and put an ear to the wall in order to
hear everything that was happening in the office occupied by
her boss, Spencer Hayden. She listened in while company meetings
were taking place, during private conferences and whenever he
was on the phone. She wasn't trying to find out anything she
didn't already know, she just liked the sound of Mr. Hayden's
firm, authoritative voice.

The lovely Miss Bates had what might be called a schoolgirl
crush on the handsome Mr. Hayden. She often daydreamed about
how his lips might taste, what he looked like in his pajamas
and where they would spend their honeymoon.

Mr. Hayden, however, showed very few signs of interest in
Miss Bates.

Of course, there was that one time.

A month earlier, Stacie had attended a Christmas party at
the home of the company's owner. Spencer had been tapped
to play Santa Claus at the event. Midway through the evening,
he entered to much applause through the front door.
Dressed in a heavily padded red suit and sporting a polyester
beard, Spencer hauled his sack of gifts into the den where
a large easy chair had been placed next to the tree especially
for him.

Stacey stood near the fireplace, sipping rum-laced eggnogs as
she watched her fellow employees line up to tell Santa what
they wanted for Christmas. Forty minutes and three drinks later,
there was no one left in line. Stacey realized that, if she was
going to do something, she'd have to do it right then. So she
tossed back one last gulp of nog and headed directly for the
jolly old elf. Without ceremony, Stacey plopped herself onto
Santa's lap, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and planted
a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek.

"Ho ho ho!" Spencer laughed, a bit overcome by her eagerness.
"Now tell Santa, have you been a good little girl this year?"

The young lady pouted a little and leaned over to whisper into
Spencer's ear.

"No, Santa. I haven't been a good girl at all. In fact, I've been
very bad." As she spoke, Stacey toyed with a button on Santa's
jacket while her other hand slipped behind his neck and flicked
at the string that held his beard on. "You see, I've been having
these naughty thoughts about my boss. All day I think about him
calling me into his office and ordering me to bend over across
his desk. When I hesitate, he slaps my bottom... really hard!
So I bend over. He lifts my dress up and pulls my panties down.
Then he slaps my ass again, this time even harder. It's stings
likes crazy and it's so humiliating, but for some reason I don't
want him to stop. He smacks my ass cheeks again and again,
harder and harder until I think I can't take any more. Then he
steps back and starts to undo his belt."

Spencer cleared his throat and tried to pretend that Stacey's
whisperings weren't quite so intriguing.

"I see, so you want a DVD player. Well, that's sounds nice..."

"I know I've been a very, very bad, Santa." Stacey continued.
"I'll bet I only get a lump of coal in my stocking this Christmas.
In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you turned me across your lap
and gave me a good spanking right in front of all these people."

Spencer was stunned. Having no idea what to say, he simply
continued staring into Stacey's eyes. Before he could reply,
someone in the next room announced that it was time to
play charades. As the guests began filing out of the den,
Stacey hopped off Spencer's lap and gave his other cheek a kiss.

"Too bad." she said. "It would have been fun."

Spencer's eyes were glued to Stacey's bottom swaying beneath her
skirt as she walked away.

Stacey stopped and turned around.

"Are you coming, Santa?"

"Just about to." Spencer called out as he attempted to adjust
his fuzzy red trousers. "I think first old Saint Nick needs to
splash a little cold water on his face. Go on without me."

Stacey went into the next room and watched the others play
party games. All the while, she waited patiently for her boss
near a doorway that was decorated with a sprig of mistletoe.
But he never showed up. When the party ended, Stacey could
only assume that she'd embarrassed Spencer and that he had
simply bolted.

In the weeks that followed, it seemed to Stacey that Mr. Hayden
was going out of his way to avoid her. He barely acknowledged
her presence as he entered and exited her office and almost
never called her into his. It had become difficult for her to
speak with him as well. Stacey began to suspect that her stunt
at the Christmas party had created a permanent state of
awkwardness between them.

One day, the last day of January, Stacey found herself once
again with her ear to the wall outside Spencer's office.
He'd been tapping away on his keyboard for nearly half an hour.
This was unusual because Spencer normally preferred to dictate
letters and rarely used his own computer. As she listened in,
she noticed several long pauses before he began typing again.
Eventually the typing stopped all together.

Spencer suddenly bolted out of his office.

"I'm going out to lunch." he said.

"Oh. Okay." Stacey replied as she watched him disappear
around the corner. She was mystified by his behavior.
He hadn't even looked at her as he passed. Stranger still,
he seemed quite flustered. "Was he blushing?" she thought.

Stacey glanced over at the door to Mr. Hayden's office,
then stood and walked over to it. She turned the knob,
opened the door slightly and poked her head inside. There was
nothing unusual to be seen in there- just an empty office.
As she began to close the door, Stacey noticed what appeared
to be a memo crumpled up in the wastebasket. Spurred on by
curiosity, she walked in, bent down and plucked the piece of
paper from the trash. She unfolded and pressed it flat against
the top of the desk as she read from it.

To Stacey Bates: 11:45 a.m.

I've been imagining the two of us in my large leather
office chair. You're sitting in my lap with an orange in
your hands. I take it and carefully pull the peel away.
We rock back and forth kissing and feeding sections of fruit
to each other. As I lick a few errant drops of juice from
between your breasts, I decide that the hardening pink buds
beneath your brassiere could do with a good tongue lashing.
You agree and in a moment your blouse and bra are memories.
I dip you forward, your silken tresses nearly brushing the
floor as I flick your swollen nipples with the slick tip of
my attentive tongue, roughly sucking and gently biting them
between licks and kisses. Then, without warning, I lift you up
and bend you over my left leg. I announce that I'm well aware
of your eavesdropping, that I know you spend much of your
workday with your hot little ear pressed to the wall, listening
in on my private business. My hand is underneath your skirt
yanking your panties down before you can catch your breath.
A cool gust of air across your bottom as your skirt flies up
is followed by a sharp hot slap. I spank you soundly until
you begin sobbing, until your legs involuntarily kick with
each swat, until your pale round cheeks are pink and throbbing.
Afterward, I hold you in place, patting and massaging your
tender, stinging ass. Eventually, you stand up only to turn
and drape yourself across my desk. Looking over your shoulder
at me, you brush a tear from your face and smile hungrily.
You rise up on the balls of your feet. I watch mesmerized as
your hips begin to sway this way and that. Charmed by this
invitation, I stand and start to unbuckle my belt.

That's where the memo ended.

When Spencer returned from his lunch break, he was surprised
to see that Stacey was not at her desk. He entered his office
and found the note he'd thrown away earlier, flattened out
and placed in the middle of his desktop. On the bottom of it,
beneath his words, was a note in what he immediately recognized
as Stacey's handwriting.

To Spencer Hayden: 1:05 p.m.

I'm not sure where this memo was going, but I can't wait to
find out! I'll be back in a few minutes. I've gone down to the
market to buy an orange.

THE END_________________"I'll love you 'til you can't sit down!”

Alex B.Writer

Joined: 06 Jul 2006
Posts: 15
Location: San Diego, CA

Posted:
Thu Jul 06, 2006 6:47 am Post subject:
The Orange Memo

NOTE: I got the idea for this story a few years ago on a sweltering
summer afternoon. I came home and opened the fridge to find that
my girlfriend had eaten the last of a particularly delicious batch of oranges.
I was irate, having set that piece of fruit aside specifically to enjoy after
a hard day at work. Interrupting the cool shower she was taking, I hauled
my wet, naked and very surprised lover out of the bathroom to our bed
where I took her across my knee and proceeded to give her a spanking she
would never forget. Afterward, I watched as she struggled into her tightest
fitting jeans and slipped on a t-shirt before scampering off to the supermarket.
When she returned home, I was prepared to apologize for overreacting,
but before I could say anything, she was in my lap carefully peeling and feeding
me segments of a fresh, cool orange. Soon after, we were both in the shower
gently scrubbing each other as soap and orange juice trickled down the drain.

NOTE: I got the idea for this story a few years ago on a sweltering
summer afternoon. I came home and opened the fridge to find that
my girlfriend had eaten the last of a particularly delicious batch of oranges.
I was irate, having set that piece of fruit aside specifically to enjoy after
a hard day at work. Interrupting the cool shower she was taking, I hauled
my wet, naked and very surprised lover out of the bathroom to our bed
where I took her across my knee and proceeded to give her a spanking she
would never forget. Afterward, I watched as she struggled into her tightest
fitting jeans and slipped on a t-shirt before scampering off to the supermarket.
When she returned home, I was prepared to apologize for overreacting,
but before I could say anything, she was in my lap carefully peeling and feeding
me segments of a fresh, cool orange. Soon after, we were both in the shower
gently scrubbing each other as soap and orange juice trickled down the drain.